Behind the window is a familiar courtyard, with a gazebo on the left with a slate roof, a wooden table and benches on either side, surrounded by grapevines that densely weave into the cosy walls. Among the lush green leaves, you can see berries that are still ripening. On the far left is a crane-well with water flowing into a small stream further on. To the right of the gazebo is a tall juniper tree, slender but with dense branches inside, where a nightingale has settled comfortably and sparrows are curaging. Directly opposite is a tall metal frame on which a swing used to be hung, with metal wires stretching from it to the summer kitchen behind to dry laundry. A little further to the right is a wooden bench, which used to be green, a fence and a greenhouse with condensation on the glass, from which the smell of tomato leaves mingles with the coniferous aroma of juniper and fireplace. I recognize the figure of a tall fair-haired guy. I can hear the neighbour's dogs barking. The ground is covered with asphalt, except for patches of black soil where flowers and grass grow. I hear a familiar voice behind the window.